


Ugly Sweater

by Solaryllis



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Office Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solaryllis/pseuds/Solaryllis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madge has her eye on the dark-haired guy she sees on the elevator every morning. Holiday-themed Modern AU Gadge. Background Everlark and Thelly. Written for the 12 Days of Gadge on tumblr, for the prompt "Mistake."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ugly Sweater

Madge was  _not_  a morning person. But her new boss was, and he wanted his "team" (ugh) in the office when he arrived, which meant Madge had to drag herself into work long before she was ready to deal with humanity. In the elevator each morning at 6:55 a.m., she felt like declaring war against every single other passenger for taking up space and pressing buttons for all the floors standing between her and Floor 48.

Coffee helped her cope. And so did the Elevator Hottie.

She first noticed him one morning when the woman standing next to her unthinkingly swung her gym bag into Madge's side, which shoved her into the guy standing next to her.

"You all right?" he asked, steadying her.

She nodded, eyes locked on her triple grande nonfat latte to be sure it hadn't spilled. Then she glared at the woman with the weaponized gym bag who was now busy obliviously pushing her way out of the elevator.

"Sorry," she muttered to the guy, retreating back into her own space, though not before noticing how good he smelled: earthy and spicy at the same time. Clean. He was easy on the eyes, too, with tousled dark hair, killer cheekbones, and a wiry frame. She guessed he was about her age, a plus.

He gave her a polite, restrained smile and returned to staring sternly straight ahead over the heads of the other elevator passengers.

Sipping her coffee, Madge watched him and tried to guess where he worked. He wasn't wearing a suit (promising), just khakis and a striped button-down shirt under a rain jacket that looked like it could protect him in a hurricane. Maybe he was a skier? Snowboarder?

He must have felt her studying him, because he turned his head and gave her a quizzical look.

Madge promptly returned her gaze to the back of the head of the man standing in front of her. She shouldn't just ogle people, no matter how hot they were. Or more to the point, she shouldn't let herself get caught. Eventually, the elevator arrived on the 48th floor and Madge pushed her way out, steeling herself for another morning with her obnoxiously cheerful boss.

She saw the elevator guy again a few mornings later, and twice the following week. Then it seemed like she saw him nearly every day. It helped that she'd become militant about arriving at the elevator bank at the same time each morning, after not seeing him on the few days when she'd been running late. She and Elevator Hottie would nod in acknowledgment at one another, but they never chatted—that would have been a gross violation of elevator etiquette amidst the stony silence of their fellow grumpy commuters. Still, Madge could feel him watching her as often and intently as she watched him. She'd even spotted him looking at her legs one day when she'd worn a skirt.

No wedding ring, she'd noted pretty early on.

He was usually frowning or giving off an aura of general disapproval—never directed at her, more just to the entirety of the world—and she kind of liked that his expression matched her mood during those too-early mornings. These new hours at work were taking their toll on her; Madge's other boss came in late and stayed late. She joked with Delly about just bringing her sleeping bag to the office and cutting out the formality of walking home to her apartment each night.

She found herself loitering in the lobby of the building every so often, studying the building directory for the floors above hers so she could speculate about where Elevator Hottie might work. Her guess was one of the engineering firms, since he never dressed up and one day she'd seen him in mud-spattered heavy-duty boots. Maybe he was with PanemDesign on 52 and had to visit work sites?

She didn't think she was obsessed with him or anything, he was just... her entertainment on the long elevator ride, a pleasant distraction on those mornings when she happened to see him. And honestly, she could use all the external motivators she could get to trick herself into beating her boss to the office.

December rolled around, bringing with it Christmas muzak in the elevator and holiday office parties throughout the building. One morning, Madge slipped into a barely-full elevator, and as usual she brightened when she spotted Elevator Hottie on the other side of the car. As the other passengers exited and the crowd thinned, Madge noticed that he was wearing a bright green sweater decorated with snarling white kittens clad in Santa hats. The kittens seemed to be using light sabers to duel with... mini Darth Vaders.

Madge stifled a laugh, hiding her smile with a sip of her pumpkin spice latte.

Elevator Hottie grinned at her, proudly tugging on his sweater's hem so she could see it better.

Madge shot him a thumbs up. He was going to be a hit at whatever ugly sweater holiday party he was going to. There were even shooting stars sewn into the fabric with glittery silver foil.

As more people exited the elevator and the remaining passengers rearranged themselves to maximize their personal space, Madge inched closer to the guy to get a better look at his sweater. It didn't escape her notice that he was moving toward her as well. When Madge saw that there were only two other people with them in the elevator and that both were listening to their iPods, she realized she and Elevator Hottie were practically alone.

It was the best opportunity she'd had yet.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows at his sweater. "Office party today?"

He grinned and nodded. "We have a sweater contest. I got runner-up last year, but I'm going for the win this time." He sounded like he was taking this contest  _very_  seriously.

"Darth Vader's a nice touch," she observed. "Kind of a retro thing?"

"A  _classic_  thing," he corrected, looking down at his sweater. "Though I guess I did find this at a thrift store." Then he leaned in toward Madge and said conspiratorially, "It's my secret weapon this year. I'm hoping the new movie will give me a boost in the voting."

"Good plan," Madge whispered back, thrilled to be so close to him. Distantly, she was also amazed that she could be so affected by someone she didn't even know. "You have to work whatever angles you can."

"Exactly," he agreed. Then, to Madge's dismay, the elevator doors opened and she found herself staring at her company's logo mounted in large silver letters on the opposite wall as a greeting to all arriving visitors.

They'd reached her floor. She'd never been more disappointed to arrive at work (and that was saying something).

"Well, good luck," she said lamely as she stepped out into the corridor. This was another reason she didn't usually chat with people on elevators—awkward ends to conversations.

Turning, she caught a glimpse of the elevator guy still watching her just before the doors closed and whisked him away with an efficient ding.

Staring down the ugly side of another 14-hour day in her office, Madge was left with nothing but an empty hallway and a realization: she needed to see him again, and to have a real conversation. A few seconds in the elevator when the stars aligned wasn't going to cut it anymore.

* * *

 

"This isn't  _too_  stalker-y, is it?" Madge asked for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

"It's a  _little_  stalker-y," Delly hedged. "But totally within the range of plausible coincidence. You don't even know if he's here. And your cover story is solid."

Delly and Madge were getting drinks together that night in their building's top floor bar and restaurant. Practically every office in the building held their holiday party here—the view of the city was spectacular—and Madge was gambling that Elevator Hottie's holiday party was up here too. She was determined to talk to him under non-elevator circumstances. From her own office's party at this same restaurant last week, Madge knew that the fringes of the area reserved for parties bled into the bar, so she didn't think it was too intrusive to park herself at the bar.

Madge nervously sipped her vodka tonic and scanned the room while Delly chatted about their new project at work. There definitely was a holiday party happening tonight, but it appeared to be winding down (unsurprising considering it was a weeknight and getting to be late enough that the older people were putting on their coats and heading toward the exit).

"Oh God, there he is," Madge said suddenly, clutching Delly's wrist. "Green sweater. Coming inside from the roof." Elevator Hottie was slipping back into the restaurant from the roof deck, along with a few other men. His hair looked more tousled and gorgeous than ever, thanks to the wind. Madge was encouraged; the fact that he'd disappeared to the roof deck was a good sign that the formal party was fizzling out.

"He  _is_  hot," Delly said appraisingly. "Actually, he reminds me a little of Thom."

Madge paused to wrinkle her nose—she didn't want to associate her elevator guy with Delly's boyfriend—and then focused on the guy again.

"I have to do something," she said, downing the rest of her drink in one swallow. "I have to go over there and—. No, I should stay here, make sure I'm not interrupting him bonding with coworkers or whatever. I'll wait for a good opening. We could pretend to be leaving and I could just bump into him—."

She broke off; the guy had seen her and was walking over.

Straight toward her.

By her side, she felt Delly stand up from her barstool and start to collect her purse and overcoat.

" _Do not leave me_ ," Madge hissed.

"Did you see his face  _light up_  when he saw you?" Delly whispered. "Like a Christmas tree, Madge. Trust me, you do not need me."

Madge didn't get a chance to protest further because the guy was close enough to hear. And speak.

"Hey," he said, smiling at Madge. He stood with his hands in his pockets, the picture of casual ease in contrast to Madge's bundle of nerves.

"Hi," Madge squeaked. "Is... your office party here? My friend and I were just grabbing a drink to celebrate... I was promoted today! So, we came up here. Because it's our favorite spot in the whole city." She just barely stopped herself from adding "...not so I could try to run into you or anything stalker-y like that." The vodka had gone to her head more quickly than she'd expected and she was pretty sure she'd already hurled herself over the line into so-obvious-it's-embarrassing territory. She might as well have put a sign around her neck announcing, "I wanted to see you and was willing to attempt to crash your office party on the off-chance that I'd run into you."

It was official: coming here was the biggest mistake ever. This was what happened to people who never saw the light of day anymore: warped judgment. Why had she ever conned herself into thinking that showing up to her crush's office party was in any way socially acceptable?

"Well, congratulations," the guy said.

"Huh?"

"On your promotion."

"Oh! Thanks!"

Delly chimed in. "Our managers have been  _really_  impressed with how early Madge has been getting to work lately." She shot a wicked smile at Madge and then announced that she needed to use the restroom.

Madge wanted to murder her friend, but Delly was already speed walking to the women's room and besides, the guy had started talking again.

"Your name's Madge?"

"Yes," she said, nodding vigorously. That was an easy question. Something she could handle.

"Gale," he said, extending his hand out for a shake.

His hand was perfect—warm, not at all sweaty—and Madge knew she was holding it for a little too long. But his eyes were even prettier up close and she was distracted trying to figure out what color they were. Blue? Gray? Gray-Blue?

He pulled his hand back, drawing Madge out of her trance. Blinking, she remembered his Darth Vader/kitten sweater.

"How was the contest?" she asked eagerly.

"Runner up again," he groused, his face falling. He narrowed his eyes and glared at someone across the room. "Peeta—you can see him over there, next to the Christmas tree—won this year. Again."

Madge followed the guy's—Gale's—gaze across the room to a blond man chatting up a dark-haired woman whose hair hung down her back in an elaborate braid.

"Mellark!" Gale called. "Sweater!"

The blond man swiveled to face them, thrusting his chest out to show off his sweater.

Madge did a double-take, looking between the sweater and Gale.

"Is that... you?"

The blond man's scarlet red sweater was emblazoned with a scowling fabric photograph of a face that looked an awful lot like Gale's. Wearing a Santa hat.

"Don't you think that's cheating?" Gale demanded, turning back to Madge. "Those fabric photo things aren't knit, like real sweaters are. Nobody  _knit_  that sweater."

Madge burst out laughing. She barely knew this guy, but she knew that scowl. How many times had she seen it directed at the other people in the elevator, the types who sneezed or coughed into the enclosed space, pressed buttons for the wrong floors, or committed countless other elevator sins?

"I don't know," she said skeptically with an exaggerated headshake. "If you made a big deal out of the sweater competition—which, you must have, since I know about it and I don't even know you—then I don't see how anyone could  _not_  vote for that sweater. It's actually kind of a compliment though, right? A vote for you, in a way?"

"A vote that  _my face_  should win the  _ugly_  sweater contest?"

"Well, the ugly part's obviously not true," she said breezily, "which makes it part of the joke."

Gale made a huffing sound and crossed his arms, still glaring at the blond guy, who had returned to his conversation. Then Gale slowly seemed to register Madge's compliment, because he turned to look at her, his expression softening and something resembling a smile creeping onto his face. He uncrossed his arms and leaned against the bar, resting his elbow on the ledge.

"You know, I'm really glad I ran into you tonight."

"Same," she said, suddenly feeling shy and maybe a little tipsy. Had she actually crashed the elevator guy's office holiday party? Successfully? Was this the Christmas miracle she'd been hoping for to balance out her rotten year?

If so, she couldn't let the opportunity could slip away.

"Do you want to grab coffee some time?" she blurted.

"I'd love to," he said with a slow grin. After a glance over his shoulder to the remnants of his office party he said, "Can 'coffee' also mean drinks? And can 'some time' be now?"

His smile was so intoxicating, Madge nudged the empty bar stool next to her with her foot and gestured for him to join her. She felt like she was in a trance and didn't care how practiced he was with that smile or if she was falling for a move; she wanted to fall.

After he checked whether Delly was coming back (for formality's sake; Madge was certain he'd been able to tell that Delly was her wingwoman), he slid into the seat and caught the bartender's attention to order another round of drinks.

Madge finally got the answers to so many of the questions she'd been wondering about him. He was a geologist, not an engineer, though he was out in the field frequently and worked primarily with engineers. He'd only recently moved to the city, but his family lived in an outlying town and he spent a lot of time with them because his siblings were all still in school. He coached his sister's basketball team in the afternoons, which was why he went in early to work.

Madge told him about her life, too, and tried not to complain too vehemently about her job, though he picked up on her frustration.

"No wonder you need all that coffee," he said grimly. "Burning the candle on both ends like that. And why the hell do you have two bosses?"

Before Madge could answer (she did all the marketing for two divisions; the company wasn't ready to hire another person to help her out and that was at least part of why she'd been promoted), the blond man who'd won the office sweater contest appeared at Gale's side. He was accompanied by the dark-haired woman with the braid, who was watching Madge through narrowed eyes.

"You guys taking off now?" Gale asked, setting his beer down on the counter.

"Yeah, but first we wanted to hand-deliver your runner-up prize," the blond man said cheerfully. He set a black canvas messenger bag, adorned with what looked like a company logo, on the bar and nudged it toward Gale.

Gale eyed the bag with obvious disdain. "And what'd you get, Mellark?"

"Dinner for two at Cornucopia del Mar," the blond man said smugly, putting his arm around the dark-haired woman.

"Katniss is allergic to shellfish," Gale said as he picked up his beer again and took a sip. Madge might have been imagining it, but thought she detected a hint of matching smugness in his tone.

"They have other stuff, too," said the dark-haired woman—Katniss, Madge guessed. Even though Katniss had responded to Gale's comment, she was focused on Madge, studying her critically. She didn't say anything and her inspection wasn't overtly hostile, though it wasn't friendly either.

After an uncomfortable space of time had passed and it was obvious that everyone was waiting for him to make introductions, Gale grudgingly said, "Katniss, this is Madge. Madge, Katniss. And Peeta," he added, nodding toward his sweater contest competitor.

Madge nodded and said hello, thinking inwardly how awkward it was to be chatting with Gale while his office party was still straggling on. Her plan, as successful as it had been, was not without flaws.

"Oh," Katniss said, recognition dawning on her face as she turned to Gale. "Oh!  _Madge._  Madge, as in short for Margaret?" she asked Madge directly.

"Yes...?"

"See you guys tomorrow," Gale said abruptly, standing to ostensibly pat Peeta on the back, though it was obvious to Madge that he was trying to steer the visiting couple away.

It worked: Peeta and Katniss left, after Katniss reminded Gale that they were meeting some surveyors the next morning at eight and that she didn't care how hungover he was, he wasn't going to make her do all the talking again.

"Fine, yeah," Gale said as he shooed them away. "Sorry," he told Madge. "Hanging around here wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had."

"Does that woman know me?" Madge asked, watching Katniss walk over to the elevator.

Gale shot an irritated look in Katniss's direction, and Madge saw the other woman flash an overly-sweet smile back, accompanied by a cutesy wave.

"She... may have helped me look you up on your company's website," Gale said reluctantly.

Madge blinked. "You... looked me up?"

"Yeah." Gale sighed and then shrugged. He looked resigned to his embarrassment; there was only so much you could do to climb out of a pit when someone had already pushed you in. Madge knew because she'd been in that same pit many times (most recently not even half an hour ago).

She bit her lip to keep from beaming and then confessed, "I tried to figure out where you worked, too. But I didn't know which floor you were on."

Gale didn't respond, and instead focused on swirling his beer. Madge started to worry that she'd said too much. He'd seemed happy to see her in the bar, but maybe telling him she'd tried to find out where he worked was going too far. Guys liked do be the pursuers, didn't they? As she struggled for something to say to salvage the situation, Gale set his beer down with a sigh and pushed it away.

"42."

Madge hesitated. "The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything?"

The corner of Gale's mouth quirked upward, but then he shook his head. "No, I work on the 42nd floor."

"The— _what_?" Madge pulled his messenger bag prize closer and examined the logo. BT  & Associates. She'd seen the name on the building directory but always assumed it was a law firm; it hadn't even been on her radar when she was trying to figure out where Gale worked. It also hadn't occurred to her that he might work on one of the floors  _below_  hers.

Gale looked miserable. "Have you ever done something stupid? Made a big fucking mistake that you couldn't see your way out of? Maybe it starts out as something you don't consciously think about—like not getting off on your own floor because you're distracted by a pretty girl—and then you do it again because you want to know more about her and were too much of an idiot to remember where she got off the first time, but then you realize you have to stick with it and you're actually just a dumbass who now has to backtrack six, no, seven, floors every morning? 'Cause I've done that, and let me tell you: it sucks." He watched Madge with a sheepish expression. "Sorry," he added.

"What for?"

"Being a creep. I couldn't even ask you out because I'd screwed things up before even getting a chance."

Madge studied him thoughtfully. "Creepiness is in the eye of the beholder. You never made me feel uncomfortable. And I wouldn't be sitting here if I picked up on the slightest creep vibe from you." This guy's vibes were hotness with a dash of wholesomeness. "Also," she added as an afterthought, "who am I to throw stones?" She shrugged and gestured to the entirety of the restaurant, reminding him that she'd essentially shown up to his office party to find him.

He got it, and let out a relieved laugh. His warm, hearty chuckle that made Madge feel lighter, and she found herself laughing along with him.

"Actually," Madge said, "I wish  _I'd_  thought to skip my own floor so I could follow you to yours."

"It wouldn't have worked. We'd both have just stayed on until the top."

"And... ended up here?" Madge nudged his knee with her own.

He grinned, clinking his beer with her glass. "And ended up here."


	2. EMERGENCY STOP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to get the second chapter up!

Madge and Gale ended up staying at the bar until the lights came on again and the bartender (nicely) kicked them out. Gale’s coworkers had long since abandoned the office holiday party, and there wasn’t anyone else remaining at either the bar or the restaurant. Madge hadn’t even noticed, she was so caught up in their conversation. (She had to keep pinching herself: she was actually talking to the Elevator Hottie! Gale. His name was Gale, like a wind so strong she pictured herself standing on the deck of an old ship, losing her balance and being swept away.)

Squinting at Gale through the sudden brightness of the overhead lights, Madge was relieved to see that he was just as gorgeous as she remembered from who knows how many elevator rides. The bar’s dim lighting and all those vodka tonics hadn’t been lying to her.

After squabbling about the bill (it was a draw; they split it), they hit their respective restrooms. Madge wasn’t sure whether her legs were wobbly because of the vodka or because of the swoony feeling of discovering that her crush was even more promising than she’d hoped. He was interesting, and funny too, with a dry humor that crept out when she least expected it. She felt like her life had been on fast forward for the past two hours and only minutes had passed, and she couldn’t wait to get back to him.

They met up again at the elevator bank in the restaurant’s lobby. Madge laughed nervously as she spotted Gale leaning against the wall, grinning wickedly while he waited for her. Gone was the polite restraint he wore during the weekday morning elevator rides. Madge similarly threw out all her regular rules about elevator etiquette and personal space, sliding right up next to him as he pushed off from the wall. She tucked herself in so close to his side that he could have put his arm around her.

“Déjà vu?” she said quietly as they waited for the elevator, turning into his body and looking up at him. His face was just inches away from hers and she could see the forest of stubble stretching along his jaw down his neck. He smelled as delicious as she remembered from that first day she fell into him.

“Not quite,” he murmured back, his breath hot on her ear.

She couldn’t wait until the elevator actually arrived to start kissing him—first his absolutely edible neck, and then his lips—but when the little bell chimed and the elevator’s doors welcomed them inside, they stumbled into the privacy of the empty car and kicked the intensity up a few notches.

There were 75 glorious floors to pass on the way to the building’s lobby, and for the first time ever Madge wished the elevator was slower. In the back of her mind, she wondered if they could press the “EMERGENCY STOP” button, like on TV shows. Making out with the Elevator Hottie— _in an elevator_ —clearly constituted an emergency (of amazingness) and she for one needed time to stop. The possibility of the fire department turning up to rescue the stranded elevator seemed like only a minor drawback, but she was so caught up in Gale that the idea soon fell away anyway. Madge was only aware of the blissful feeling of being enclosed in a bubble where time didn’t exist.

When they arrived in the lobby and the doors slid open with a cheerful _ding!_ , Madge pulled herself away from Gale in a fog. He looked just as disoriented as she felt, and she hoped she wasn’t quite as disheveled as he was but suspected that was asking too much. She was wearing a dress so she didn’t have a shirt to tuck back in the way he did—(had she really pulled his shirt up? she did vaguely remember being curious about what was beneath that amazing sweater)—but even a cursory check of her hair confirmed that her ponytail had slipped down the right side of her head, leaving a hunk of hair dangling over her left shoulder. Judging from Gale’s smirk, she figured the resulting style wasn’t so much “sexy” as “hurricane-victim.”

(Or maybe the victim of a lesser wind. Like a gale.)

“That bad?” she laughed as she tried to fix it.

“Here, I’ll help,” Gale offered, stepping forward and reaching up to help her pull the rubber band out. But he must have gotten distracted because instead of helping he combed his hands through her now-loose hair and started kissing her again, more slowly this time.

Madge felt herself being pulled back into a single-minded focus on him, like she’d been the entire time at the bar and on the elevator ride to the lobby. Distantly, she heard the elevator doors shut again, the machine apparently under the impression that all its passengers had all disembarked and that it just needed to wait patiently for the next set or until it was summoned to another floor.

Perfect: that meant privacy. They had unintentionally achieved the EMERGENCY STOP Madge had wanted, with the bonus that the fire department was unlikely to show up. And even better, Gale hadn’t bothered to tuck his shirt back in yet so she could continue exploring his abs.

Seconds later, Madge was jolted back into reality by the elevator doors opening again.

She and Gale pulled apart enough to see the grizzled, night security guard standing in front of them with a disapproving glare.

“Thought I heard voices,” he muttered. Looking at Madge, he asked, “This guy hassling you?”

She shook her head vehemently, stepping away from Gale and feeling the way she used to in high school when her parents would walk in on her and her boyfriend making out in the TV room. But she and her high school boyfriend had never gotten very far, and with a pained glance at Gale she noticed that she’d started unbuttoning his jeans, which he was trying to casually conceal by adjusting his Darth Vader kitten sweater.

Had she really…? What on earth had she been thinking? _They were in a public elevator._ It was like she’d been trapped in a Lust Trance.

“All right,” the guard said, taking in their rumpled appearances. “How about moving along then?”

Madge made a squeaky sound of agreement and hurried out of the elevator through the building’s lobby, bolting to the large bank of glass doors that led to the sidewalk. She was greeted by a blast of freezing December night air and immediately started buttoning her overcoat and pawing through her purse for her hat and gloves.

Gale joined her outside moments later, wearing a sheepish expression.

Madge hid her face with her now-gloved hands and groaned. “That guard always keeps me company while I wait for my cab when I work late.” Which was pretty much every single night. She saw the guard more than her roommate lately. “He’s like… my office grandpa. How can I ever look at him again?”

“Nothing he hasn’t seen a million times before, I’m sure,” Gale said with a shrug. “He was probably just glad we weren’t Bruce Willis and that he wasn’t going to have a _Die Hard_ sequel on his hands.”

“I think we’d _all_ like to avoid any more _Die Hard_ sequels,” Madge muttered.

Gale chuckled as he glanced up and down the street, which was twinkling and still. White holiday lights and evergreen garlands spiraled up the streetlight poles, the most obvious indicators of the holiday season now that all the shoppers and Salvation Army bell-ringers had left. Madge loved the serenity of the street during the late night hours, a sharp contrast to the daytime hustle and bustle. Tonight, the stillness was also a reminder that the day was over: her long day at work was over, her impromptu pseudo-date with Gale in the bar was over, and even the thrilling elevator ride was over.

What was next?

Madge watched Gale and felt the atmosphere between them ripple with the threat of awkwardness. The cold night air was working hard to prove that the evening’s earlier moments, cocooned in the hazy warmth of the bar and the privacy of the elevator, had passed. Madge was also feeling increasingly unsteady and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to get her bearings, shrinking into her coat for warmth. What would have happened if the guard hadn’t turned up? It was a little disconcerting how her body had just gone on autopilot like that. How could she have been so caught up in the moment that she barely realized what she was doing?

“So,” Gale said. Madge looked up to see him shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Where do you live?”

She hesitated. Was he expecting her to come home with him, or for him to come over to her apartment? He probably was, after the way she’d mauled him in the elevator.

Before she could answer, Gale hurried to speak again. “I was just going to offer to split a cab. I’m not trying to invite myself over. Not that I don’t want to,” he quickly added. “I definitely—You’re gorgeous and… I just… Yeah.”

Madge frowned, thinking back over the evening. “I can’t remember how many drinks I had tonight,” she finally said.

Gale seemed to be waiting for her to continue, and when she didn’t he offered, “Two with me. Or three? It wasn’t more than three.”

Plus one with Delly. She waved her hand; the exact number didn’t matter. “The point is,” she said, “I can’t remember, which… Well, that’s my rule.” For deciding when to go home after a night out, and whether to go home alone.

“Honestly, I’m… kind of a mess this week,” she admitted. “This is the earliest I’ve gone home since Monday.” She felt the wave of exhaustion she’d been holding back threaten to slam into her and knock her over. The adrenaline from actually talking to Gale and making out with him in the elevator was wearing off, and the reality of having to deal with work again tomorrow was starting to sink in. Work with a hangover, most likely, she thought grimly; it was also becoming painfully obvious that however swoony Gale made her feel, the drinks were at least contributing to her unsteadiness. Coming outside again had pushed her from feeling recklessly-fun-drunk to just-let-me-sleep-for-ten-years drunk. Why had she thought she could keep up with Gale whenever he ordered another drink? He was bigger than her, not to mention a guy, while she was a wreck thanks to all the deadlines Boss #2 had thrown at her this week. There was only so long she could coast on hormone-fueled bliss and apparently the crash was happening now.

She could see Gale watching her closely, probably thinking about what a disaster she was, going from Elevator Temptress to Sad Sack on the Sidewalk within mere minutes. He would think she was a tease, and all their future elevator rides would be absolutely unbearable now… Even worse, she’d have to start coming in to work even _earlier_ now to avoid running into him. The idea made her nauseous.

Or was she nauseous because the sidewalk was spinning? Madge squeezed her eyes shut again and willed her brain to find the right words to make this situation less awkward.

“Well,” she heard Gale say into the silence, “what would you say to dinner this weekend?”

Madge’s head shot up. Did he just… ask her out? On a proper date? She stared at him.

“If you’re free,” he added. “I know it’s a busy time of year.”

“I’m free. Yes. Yes, dinner!” Madge’s words tumbled out before she could polish them. She could also feel her face stretching into a huge, cheesy smile.

Gale grinned back at her. “Saturday OK?”

“Perfect.”

Gale beamed, and Madge felt so relieved at the prospect of getting another chance to see him that she stepped up and kissed his cheek.

She heard him suck in his breath in surprise, and then felt his arms wrapping around her in a hug. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and hugged him back. For someone she barely knew, his embrace felt strangely, wonderfully familiar. The little flicker of hope she’d been fanning all night that this could turn into something real was still alive. Through the haze in her head, she scolded herself for not having at least entertained the idea that he would be a decent guy about this. (Another sign that she wasn’t thinking clearly, she knew.)

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he said softly, pulling out his phone.

He was so warm, Madge didn’t pull away and let him keep one arm around her shoulders as he used his free hand to unlock the screen.

“I’ll plan something fun this for Saturday, take your mind off this place,” Gale said, gesturing back toward their building.

“Mmmm, yes,” Madge agreed. Still nestled next to him, she watched him use an app to call a cab and then said softly, “Thanks. For understanding.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve been there. You’re looking at a rough Friday at work tomorrow.” Then he added, “It’s probably a good idea for us to hit pause until Saturday.”

“Pause. I like that,” Madge said dreamily. “Like the Emergency Stop button in the elevator.” If she’d pressed the button, they could have paused their return to reality.

When she realized Gale was watching her quizzically, she explained, “I… uh… thought about hitting the button. So we’d get stuck.”

It took Gale a second to catch on, but Madge felt the moment it clicked because he started to laugh, his chest shaking against her head.

“It felt like an emergency,” she explained, cringing as soon as the words were out. This was the other problem with drinking too much: not knowing when to shut up.

Still laughing, Gale pulled away from her and she worried she’d said something wrong, but then she noticed the cab pulling over toward them and realized he was only moving to the edge of the sidewalk to wave it over.

He’d stopped laughing by the time he opened the cab’s door and gestured for her to get in, though he was still grinning at her. But there was an open quality to his smile that didn’t make her feel like he’d been laughing at her; it was more like he was flattered and they were in on something together.

As Madge slid past him to get into the cab, he lightly touched her hip and leaned in to whisper, “I like pause, too. It means you can pick up where you left off.”

Madge could have sworn she felt the heat from his hand through all her layers of winter clothes. She met his eyes and got lost for a moment in their steely blend of intensity and playfulness.

“Exactly,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to madgesundersee/jennycaakes for dreaming up and organizing the 12 days of Gadge! 
> 
> The reference to 42 is from Douglas Adams' book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and was also inspired by DamnDonnerGirls for making Gale's hockey jersey #42 (because obviously Gale is the Answer).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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